


In Nigrum Cattus

by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Sam adopts a cat but only for eight hours, brotherly bantering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 12:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19198378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod/pseuds/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod
Summary: There's basically a blizzard outside. There's four dead vampires in a warehouse and the Winchesters are covered in grime. The last thing they expect to find is a kitten in amongst the debris.AKA: The one where Sam insists on bringing the cat back to the motel for a few hours until conditions improve and they can get it to a shelter. Dean isn't amused. At first.





	In Nigrum Cattus

**Author's Note:**

> So doing the Supernatural series rewatch and watching my own cats brought up this story. It's basically just fluff and brotherly bantering, which made me happy to write and will hopefully make someone happy to read :)
> 
> Cross-posted over on ff.n. The title means 'the black cat' in Latin according to google translate. Set in early season 12, but it's not a major thing.

“I mean seriously?!”

“Seriously what?”

“Just once,” there was a grunt and a pause from behind one of the machines, “why can’t vamps make their nest somewhere nice?” Sam heard some dragging and a few less than muffled curses before Dean spoke up again. “Is somewhere not in the middle of nowhere and old and filled with…tetanus harboring pieces of rubble too much to ask for?”

Sam actually laughed, the sound, only slightly louder than the howling wind outside, echoing throughout the decrepit warehouse. “When are we ever that lucky?” His breath puffed out in front of him, the thin metal sheet walls of the building doing nothing to keep any sort of warmth inside.

“And! And! Freaking snowing outside!”

Sam didn’t even have to see his brother’s face to know it was one of pure annoyance as he did some cleaning up of the vampires he’d killed on his side of the warehouse.

It had been a relatively simple case for once, aside from the weather that had picked up once they reached town and decided it was too late to turn back. Four vampires had killed six people in the town and they couldn’t risk letting them escape just because of a little snow. They tracked them to a warehouse ten minutes outside town and went to work. Ever since the vampires’ heads had been separated from their shoulders, Dean hadn’t stopped complaining.

Still, Sam would rather have complaining than plain old silence, which had been filling the bunker more and more ever since Mary had left to ‘take some time’. He could still hear the echo of the bunker’s door closing perhaps a bit harder than normal, signaling the finality of her decision. Working a case seemed to help both of them, especially Dean, from thinking too much into the practical abandonment, so yeah, Sam would eagerly take the complaining.

Sam finished his disposal of the bodies and went to see if Dean needed help with his. His flashlight illuminated the tracks of blood and followed them to where Dean had done the same and was wiping his bloodied fingers on his jeans.

“You good?” Sam checked, running the flashlight up and down Dean’s body, satisfied that he didn’t see any major injuries beyond the typical scrapes and bruises.

“Aces,” Dean said as he looked up, checking Sam over too and being happy with what he found. “Looking forward to a hot shower, I’ve got first dibs.”

Sam shook his head and scoffed. “Dude, no way, going out in the snow was your idea-“

“Which you agreed to, and besides, I’m more covered than you are,” Dean gestured to the dark spots on his clothes.

But Sam wouldn’t let him get away with it that easily. Maybe it was because he missed this, the easiness between them that had been missing the past week, or because he actually wanted the first shower, or because he just wanted Dean to feel like he won it fair and square.

So he moved to hold his flashlight under his arm and brandished a fist and an open palm as a challenge.

Dean looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and smirked. _Oh, it’s on_ was all over his features, and Sam didn’t need him to say it for him to hear it as clear as a bell. But that wasn’t the only thing Sam heard, or didn’t. As Dean followed suit and got ready to count off, Sam heard rustling by some of the wood pallets covered in fraying plastic. It didn’t sound like a vampire, but there was something there all the same and it wasn’t the wind from outside.

He dropped his hands to properly hold his flashlight, and Dean’s declaration of victory was cut short when Sam held a hand out. A switch flipped and Dean transformed in half a second from relaxed brother mode to hunter mode, searching out whatever was making the rustling.

Dean moved in front of Sam, machete already out, and Sam fell into step behind him, swiveling to cover their six before they kept walking, boots quiet on the cement floor beneath them. When they made it to the pallet, Dean stood in front slightly off to the side while Sam went to the other. After getting a nod from Dean he quickly threw off the plastic, ready for whatever may be hiding under it.

Maybe not whatever.

Instead of swinging the machete down, Dean’s brow just furrowed in confusion. He slowly lowered the weapon and gestured for Sam to come around.

“What is it…” Sam trailed off as he came around and heard a tiny meow from between the pallets. When he came around at first he didn’t see anything but a pair of eyes glinting back at him. Dean was keeping his distance a few steps back, but Sam bent down and slowly extended one hand towards the animal.

“Make sure it doesn’t bite you,” Dean muttered but Sam didn’t bother replying.

It took a few seconds but eventually a small cat came out of its hiding spot to sniff Sam’s hand. It was jet black and had a set of curious green eyes. It meowed up at him and rubbed its face against his hand, which Sam took as his cue that it was alright to pet it.

Dean moved his flashlight so they could see better, still not moving any closer. Sam wasn’t an expert on cats, but he could figure it was probably a few months old, not a baby kitten, but definitely not an adult. There was dust from the warehouse covering some parts to its fur, but was wiped away as he kept petting it, noticing how it seemed to be shaking, probably because of the cold.

“Alright, you guys are buddies, it’s not a monster, can we go now?”

“At least you didn’t scream this time,” Sam smirked up at his brother, who hit him lightly on the shoulder in reply. He thought about standing up to leave, but when he looked back down at the cat, he realized that he couldn’t in good faith just leave it behind. It was small, defenseless, and alone, and not that Sam would ever voice it, but his heart ached for the little creature.

So instead he slipped his flashlight into his pocket and carefully picked the cat up before he stood.

“Dude!”

Sam didn’t necessarily listen to him and instead cradled the small animal close to his chest and it burrowed into his hands happily. When he looked back at his brother, _no way in hell_ was written all over his features.

“You know we can’t just leave it here, Dean, the temperature’s only going to drop,” he started to plead his case.

“It’s been fine so far,” Dean waved his hands out.

“We’re in the middle of a cold snap, who knows how well it’ll do tonight, or over the next week in the snow. You really want me to just put it down and walk away?”

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again. Sam knew he wasn’t a big fan of cats, or animals in general, just given their lifestyle, but he also had a definite soft spot for when they were in need.

“We sure as hell can’t take it back to the bunker, you know with our lives we can’t reasonably take care of a pet.”

“I know-“

“Then what the hell are we going to do with it?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to find that he didn’t have a great answer. But he looked down at the little bundle in his arms and figured that his first idea may be the best one. “Is there an animal shelter in town?”

Dean looked at him, eyebrows raised before he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “What do I tell them when I drop off a sasquatch and a tiny cat?” He didn’t bother looking at Sam’s face as he pulled out his phone and searched it up. Apparently there was a bar or two of signal, because Dean started shaking his head again. “Thirty miles out, not even in this town. And before you say anything, we’re fine back to the motel, but I’d like to not drive more in this than I have to.”

Sam knew he had a point. Dean could handle any weather in the Impala, rain or shine or even snow, but it was understandable that he would rather not deal with the latter if he didn’t have to. A two ton metal boat wasn’t the safest thing to be riding around in through snowbanks and black ice, especially with the wind gusting as it was.

“So we take it back to the motel,” Sam shrugged as if it were the most simple thing in the world, “see if the weather clears up at all by morning and head out then.”

“You are so not serious.” Dean sighed, creating a white cloud in front of him before he pinched the bridge of his nose with bloodstained fingers.

“Eight hours, tops, it’ll be fine.”

Dean looked between Sam and the cat. “A _black_ cat of all things, Sam, what, should we call up Rowena too and let her know we found Fluffy?

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re superstitious about black cats?”

His brother just kept looking at him.

“You do know that’s all nonsense right?” When Dean didn’t reply, Sam kept on, determined to make him see that this wasn’t a terrible idea. “Sure, some witches had familiars, but they weren’t all black cats. More cats could’ve helped with the bubonic plague and even today having a black cat cross your path in some European cultures is a sign of supposed good luck,” he pushed, adding emphasis on the ‘good luck’.

He half expected Dean to make a quip about his nerdiness, but he settled for just rolling his eyes again before he pointed a finger at the cat, who was paying absolutely no attention while snuggled in Sam’s arms. “If anything bad happens, anything, you know who and what I’m blaming.”

With that he spun on his heel and started out of the warehouse. Sam smiled and looked down at the little bundle in his arms. It was only a few hours, and Dean would come around, he was sure of it.

Of course, Dean grumbled about having to put everything away since Sam’s arms were full with, well, a cat, but he didn’t make Sam put it down, which he considered a win. The cat fell asleep in his lap on the drive back to the motel, and while looking out the window Sam knew they had made the right call.

Dean had to drive thirty under the speed limit, which means conditions were bad, even for his skilled driving. The snow had piled up along the sides of the roads and wind was howling through the thin, bare trees dotted around. The Impala’s heater was turned up as high as it would go, but there was still a slight chill whenever Sam moved closer to one of the windows.

Dean had turned off the soft rock music after a few minutes in favor of listening to the wind around them in case anything should gust up. There was just silence between them, the rattle of old legos in the vents, and an occasional little noise as the cat re-situated itself.

Sam didn’t miss Dean’s sigh of relief when they finally pulled into the motel parking lot, grateful that there was a spot open right in front of their room. It was nearly three in the morning and the only light aside from the neon signs was a small amount that filtered in from the moon behind the clouds.

This time, Dean didn’t complain as he got the bags and unlocked the room, Sam being careful to shield the cat with his jacket. They were both brushing snow out of their hair and off their jackets after they got inside, and Dean walked right over to the heater to crank it up.

Sam gingerly placed the small animal on his bed, and after taking off his jacket and making a circle-like shape out of it, the cat happily climbed in and sat down again.

Dean came out of the bathroom to find Sam scratching the cat on its head while it purred happily, its eyes blinking lazily, completely satisfied to be away from the elements.

“Does it need food or something?” Dean asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but Sam saw right through it. Not that he’d mention it though. “I mean, not cat food obviously, but there was chicken in the half the sandwich I saved earlier?”

Sam looked between his brother and the animal, who seemed quite content in its current place, and shook his head. “I think it’ll be fine until morning, just happy to be out of the cold.”

Dean shrugged and sat down on the corner of the other bed, perched so he could reach out and pet the cat, if he wanted to of course. “Dude, it’s like it has a motor,” he remarked about the cat’s happy purring. For such a small creature, the continuous purring surprisingly did resemble that of a small machine.

“Yeah, Dean, cats purr when they’re relaxed and happy,” Sam smiled at him, which widened when he saw Dean still looking at the cat, almost as if it were an alien. Then again, Sam couldn’t remember the last time they were in the same room with a cat for more than a few minutes, let alone had the chance to win its favor. “You can pet it, you know, it seems pretty mellow and grateful.”

Dean made a face like he was about to protest, but then Sam took his own hand away. The cat opened its eyes and let out a meow that was more like a squeak than anything and turned its eyes in Dean’s direction. “Fine,” he muttered. There was no heat behind it, which only served to increase Sam’s amusement.

Dean Winchester, monster killer extraordinaire, slowly reached out his hand and gave the cat a few experimental scratches on the head. When that went well, he ran a hand along the length of its body and even smiled when it stopped purring to lick his thumb. There weren’t many things Dean was out of his depth with, and relatively safe things that fit into that category were few and far between. Apparently petting a cat was one of them.

Sam leaned back a little, an easy smile on his face as he watched Dean, transfixed, apparently completely having changed his mind on how bad of an idea this was.

He eventually pulled his hand back, not even trying to put a mask of indifference back on. Maybe he was just too tired, or he didn’t care, or he actually liked the creature. “It stays on your bed, kapeesh?”

Sam chuckled. “I’ll be sure to get the message across.”

“You better, you’re the one that picked it in the first place.” Dean scrubbed a hand across his face and yawned before he moved completely back onto his own bed. Sam followed suit, being mindful of the cat on his bed and where his legs were in relation to it.

When Dean turned the light off, Sam could see whatever light that filtered through the curtains reflecting off the cat’s eyes in the darkness, the only real light in the room. He kept watching them until they closed and the cat settled with a sigh. It didn’t take long before Sam did the same.

Sam managed to get six or so hours of sleep, which was a miracle in itself, but what was more of a miracle was the fact that Dean was still sleeping when he woke up. Sam had heard his brother for the past few nights wandering the halls of the bunker, sitting in the kitchen, going to the library, anything to try and stop his overactive mind from thinking about their mom. Sam, of course, knew this because his mind was doing the exact same thing. A few times he’s go out and join his brother, but the others he let him be, not wanting to impede on whatever alone time Dean thought he was getting.

Sam was careful when he stretched, but woke up more when he found that the cat wasn’t at the foot of his bed. He immediately sat up and searched the room. The bathroom window was closed, as was the kitchenette window and the door, no way the cat could have gotten out.

He was about to shake Dean awake, who had been sleeping with his back to him, when he paused. Dean was sleeping on his side, one arm under his pillow with the other curled almost protectively around the small black cat, who was awake and looking back at Sam with its green eyes. Its fur blended in with Dean’s black tshirt. Dean’s breaths were still even and deep, signs that he was getting some actual rest, so Sam figured that sleeping next to a cat hadn’t bothered him too much, and resolved to leave it that way.

He checked his phone and saw that the nearest animal shelter was already open for the day, so they could drop the cat off once they got going. A quick glance out the window showed him that the flurries from last night had stopped, leaving picturesque sunshine over a white landscape. It was frozen, but beautiful at the same time.

For once they had nowhere to be in a hurry, so Sam headed back to his bed to see if he could catch an extra half hour, or just spend some time relaxing.

But of course, he didn’t lay down until he’d silently taken a picture of Dean and the cat to save and cherish and possibly show Dean if the situation ever called for it.


End file.
